


By His Side

by tsukisoras



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Eren and Mikasa make a list and they're cute about it, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9416087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukisoras/pseuds/tsukisoras
Summary: The light caress that is her breathing tickles him, but he makes no comment about it. His hands slip up to squeeze her arms, appreciatively, her own name falling from his lips in a hoarse whisper that sends a shiver down her spine. Eremika. Multichaptered.





	1. The List

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo this is my first Eremika project of 2017 and I'm super excited about it! This started off with a completely different draft, but I'm very happy with the results.

They are quiet as she nurses his wounds, sitting alone in the infirmary together, half-dressed and exhausted from the expedition. Mikasa’s hands are soft on his warm skin, quick and nimble as the blade of the needle leaves light pricks along the flesh just over his rib. Eren had insisted that he didn’t need stitches. Even told her that she was better off looking after herself. But, as usual, the raven could care less about herself - which irritates him to  _ no end _ \- and before he could stop himself he was grumbling, _ “Fine”  _ and letting her bring him down to this damned place.

He doesn’t have many opportunities to tell her, _ “I told you so”  _ but in cases like these he’s  _ relishing _ in it.

She seems to momentarily forget about his healing factor, for every time he regenerates she loses her momentum and curses softly under her breath. 

“Mika,” he chuckles.

“Shh,” she says.

Always the perfectionist. A stubborn,  _ stupidly cute _ perfectionist.

“Mikasa,” he tries again, this time catching her hand and holding it in his larger grasp. He exerts enough strength to make it clear to her that he wants her to cease. Her breath catches, but she obeys, fingers curling slightly around his.  “I told you: I’m fine. See?” he nods his head down to his ribcage, where the wounds of before had faded into light scars within the span of less than an hour; they looked days, if not weeks, old.

Mikasa’s lips press into a thin line, disbelieving. “Your back.”

“My back is fine.”

“Turn around.”

“‘S fine -”

“Turn around.”

_ “Goddammit -”  _ Eren huffs, ripping his hand from hers and making a one-eighty on his ass, legs crossed on the bed and hands balled up on each side of his knees. He will never understand her persistence, even after he’s told her he doesn’t need her babying him. It’s embarrassing.

There’s hesitance in her hand, remaining uplifted as it ghosts over his flawless backside. There’s not a scratch on him, like he _ said  _ there would be, but Mikasa does not voice her disappointment. She had been hoping there was something else she could do for him. Something that would prolong their time together. Make him stay for just a little longer.

She bites her bottom lip. Places her hand on his shoulder blade, followed by the opposite hand smoothing up his spine. Her actions surprise him, make his heart accelerate, his throat dry. He doesn’t know why the atmosphere has gotten so...intimate all of a sudden, especially after she’d just been tending to every wound he has with her shirt hanging open. He wasn’t focused on the physicality at the time. Their near-nakedness doesn’t bother him.

But then her arms are slipping around him, and she’s pressing herself against his back, cheek resting against the nape of his neck, and he’s now very much aware that she is of the opposite gender. Okay, so his gauze wrapping skills aren’t as fancy, nor as up to par as hers, but he feels like he’s done a damn good job. The fabric is a sharp contrast to her soft, ivory skin, but it is also a reminder that she is not wearing anything underneath. While wrapping her up in it, he had her with her back facing him out of respect for her body, but they’ve been looking after each other for so long now that he didn’t question it.

Although he is starting to, when she is embracing him this way. Her hands cross at the wrists, the pads of her fingers grazing his sternum. They look so slender, fragile, pale in comparison to his darker complexion. He has to remind himself that those are the same hands that saved his life when they were young.

And the same hands that have shed blood, sweat, and tears to continue their purpose.

“What’s…” his voice trails off, unsure how to ask without making things awkward.

He feels her inhale. “Nothing. Just...thinking about…”

He waits.

“-- what would’ve happened if I -- if I didn’t make it --”

This time it is he who shushes her, cupping his hands over hers. It silences her immediately, for what reason he will never know, but he’s grateful for it. Gives him time to think over his response before he says something insensitive.

“Don’t think like that. We made it, alright? Shouldn’t that count for something?”

A beat. “I...suppose…”

Eren sighs and moves, causing her to release her hold on him instantaneously. He gets off the bed, stretching his stiff limbs. He feels her gaze burning into his back and falters, meeting her gaze over his shoulder.

The sight of her tears  _ startle  _ him.

“What’s wrong now?” he exclaims, throwing his arms out in an exasperated fashion.  _ God,  _ girls are weird! What’s it gonna take with his?

Not that he’s, er, admitting that Mikasa is _ his girl _ or anything. He has no right to call her such a thing. He would never -

Yeah. Moving on.

“Nothing,” she stammers, her voice trembling with uncertainty. She blinks at a rapid pace, doing everything in her power to make sure those damned tears don’t spill over the rim of her lower eyelid. She wins this battle. For now.

Eren sighs and extends his hand to her. He does not need the guilt weighing on his shoulders right now. He already has enough to deal with.

She stares at the limb, as if he is fooling her.

But then her gaze flickers up to his and he hopes that by then his own has softened and he appears to be more inviting and warm. Whatever she sees there is good enough for her and she places her hand in his grasp, letting him pull her up to her feet.

Fingers overlap, weaving together at his leisure. He pulls her closer. Mutters a husky, “C’mere,” as he embraces her, holding her flush against him. She is initially limp, but he is patient and waits with baited breath. One. Two. Three.

He reaches five beats and then Mikasa sighs his name, embracing him around his torso. Her face makes its home in the juncture between his neck and shoulder blade, the pads of her fingers pressing lightly into his bare skin. The light caress that is her breathing tickles him, but he makes no comment about it. His hands slip up to squeeze her arms, appreciatively, her own name falling from his lips in a hoarse whisper that sends a shiver down her spine.

Communication is his problem. He is more expressive through his actions, showing his gratitude by  _ doing _ stuff. Growing up with Armin was simple. He didn’t expect much. Eren fought off the bullies, regardless if he won the fight or not, and in turn Armin told him about the ocean and gave him a brighter outlook on life. Eren’s never told Armin he loved him - and god, he seldom uses the word so it’s foreign and unsettling to think about it now - but it was clear he did. And Armin felt the same way.

With Mikasa, it’s harder for him because for the vast majority of their youth he had shut her out and pushed her away because of her smothering protectiveness and selfish impulses. As he became a teenager, he was consumed with more rage and more vengeance, and she kept getting in the way of his goal. He felt like he was being babied all the time. Armin soaked it all up without complaint and it pissed him off. He may not have been capable to take care of himself but Eren was and Mikasa had no right to treat him the way she did.

That’s...how he used to feel, anyway. He’s older, he’s had time to reflect. It’s least to say that he only spirals further down into the pit of self-loathing. The boy who he was then would’ve snorted in disbelief at the man he is now. He’s not as quick to anger, but his temper is still there. Dormant, until it’s triggered. He keeps his room tidy because old habits die hard and, also because of the Captain, he makes an attempt to keep his belongings organize so he doesn’t lose something every five seconds. He can’t remember the last time he punched Jean in the face. Armin and Hange are scrounging around frantically for a cure to Ymir’s Curse and he’s helping with the progress by offering himself up as a test subject. Being aware of his limited time until stated otherwise has kept him from phasing so much, unless he absolutely needs to. It’s given him a chance to improve his battle skills as a human and go toe to toe with Mikasa without getting his ass kicked ( most of the time ). He attends political meetings with Historia and Hange occasionally, and thankfully he doesn’t have to talk much. He helps the queen with the orphanage and has grown attachment to the kids.

And yet he’s still embarrassingly, emotionally constipated.

Not that he’s been keeping tabs on the time or anything, but they have been standing here for a while and neither Eren nor Mikasa are making intention to pull away from each other any time soon. His exceedance in height gives him the advantage to hold the back of her head comfortably. There’s a slight sway in their embrace, almost like they are dancing. Something inside Eren is though. Definitely. No denying that. This warm... _ tingling _ feeling is making it a conscious effort for him to breathe correctly and god he hopes that she doesn’t notice his heartbeat spiking up. Why is this happening?

“Eren?” she breathes again.

“Yeah?”

“Do you...like me?”

Abort mission. Evacuate the facility. GO, GO, GO.

“What are you going on about, huh?” He somehow - MIRACULOUSLY - manages to maintain his composure. He leans back to look at her but doesn’t release her completely. One hand remains still on her arm will the other absentmindedly brushes her hair out of her face.

Mikasa wets her lips. “I meant…” Another pause. “I was just wondering if we were still okay?”

Oh. OH.

Eren lets out a relieved laugh. “What kind of question is that?”

“Don’t laugh at me.” She swats his hand away. A light action that doesn’t bother him in the least. But her words do settle in him and rest with his soul. How many times has she questioned him this through the hurt look in her eyes, with every headbutt and whiplash?

He doesn’t even wanna know the answer. It’ll kill him.

“Sorry.” He clears his throat. “Uh,” scratches the back of his head before flashing her a lazy grin, “yeah. We’re okay.”

Mikasa sighs, content with his answer. “Okay.”

They get dressed and prepare to walk back the way they came, padding closely together.

“Let me know when your bandages need to be changed. I’ll fix ‘em,” he says.

“You won’t have to. I heal proficiently too, remember?” she points out.

“Yeah, yeah, but still. You’re not invincible, you know.”

Mikasa stops walking.

Eren stops too.

_ If you start crying again, I swear to god - _

“I know,” she says, monotonous coming back into her voice. “There won’t be a next time. No mistakes.”

Eren huffs. “That’s stupid. You’re gonna get hurt by continuing to stay here. You can always leave.”

Thaaaat didn’t come out right.

“Shit. Not what I meant. I just, uh -”

“I know.”

“...Do you?”

“Yes. You want to keep me safe too. But I told you, Eren. I go where you go. If you leave, I’m leaving.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He begins to wonder if she has a life outside of devoting herself to him. Chances are slim on that matter. Ugh. Stubborn, always so stubborn. “You’re a weirdo, you know that?”

“Yes. I am aware.”

Rolling his eyes, Eren leans forward and grasps her sleeve to tug her along, muttering something along the lines of, “We need to find you a hobby,” on the way down the hall.

* * *

 

_ 5 things that need improvement, a list written by Eren Jaeger: _

_ 1 ) Patience. I know I’m shit at it but I’ll try. No promises though. _

_ 2 ) Empathy. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s wrong with you ‘cause it can be a number of things. Not to sound narcisstic, but most of them revolve around me, right? _

Mikasa looks up from the parchment in her hands, eyeing him inquisitively. “Narcissistic you mean?”

Eren makes a get-on-with-it motion. “Go on, keep reading.”

The raven exhales and resumes.

_ -I’ll try to be more understanding and shit. _

“You must really love this word.”

“Oh shut up.”

Mikasa’s lips twitch but she doesn’t smile.

_ 3 ) Communication. I’m terrible, I’m sorry.  _

_ 4 ) Self-Awareness. Half the stuff that comes out of my mouth doesn’t always come out right. You know this. I know this. ‘Kay. _

_ 5 ) I really like hugging you.  _

Until the fifth one. Her eyes give away everything, fingertips hovering over her mouth to hide the butterfly smile that spreads there. It must have took him a lot to write that, even if it was a sentence with less than ten words. Half that. 

Spoiler alert: it did. He’s kind of flushed right now.

“You like hugging?” Mikasa asks him quietly, not meeting his eyes yet.

His voice comes even quieter. Trembles almost. “Hugging you, yeah.”

“Oh.” The smile widens a little.

“I added it to the list because I’m shit at expressing affection anyway, but I do like the way it feels when we - when we, uh -”

“No, I get it.”

“Right. So, um, do you have your list?”

Unlike his, hers is folded neatly and smells like her. And her penmanship is way better than his messy scrawl. It’s a miracle she had been able to read it.

Eren opens the parchment with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

_ 5 things that will insure my relationship with Eren, penned by Mikasa Ackerman - _

He chuckled at the title. Typical.

_ 1 ) I know my overprotectiveness has been bothersome and put a wedge between you and I for a long time, but I have been working on it and I will continue to try my best to keep things the way they are currently. I like us now. _

_ 2 ) I am at fault for not telling you how I feel when I’m feeling that emotion at the time. From now on, I will be open with you and hope this doesn’t affect us negatively. _

_ 3 ) I will give you your space. _

_ 4 ) I have grown emotionally attached to our friends here and I will continue to trust them when we are out on an expedition. My emotions have not gotten in the way of the objective for quite a while. I think that is good. _

_ 5 ) I like to garden. _

He laughs out loud at that last one. He isn’t laughing  _ at _ her, he’s remembering what he said under his breath last night and she had clearly heard him.  _ Nothing _ gets passed this girl.

But he is curious now. “Why gardening?”

“My mother loved it,” she admits. “I don’t know if I’ve told you -”

“You haven’t.”

“- She’d take me outside and show me the plants she was growing in our backyard. Papa was always hunting. It gave me an opportunity to bond with her because she was always cooking and cleaning, or going to town for food and supply. Then she fell ill, and your dad started visiting…”

Oh. “Did he ever find out what the illness was?”

Mikasa’s lips press into a thin line. “She was pregnant.”

Silence falls between them.

Eren’s gaze remains downcast. “Mikasa, I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -”

“It’s alright,” she murmurs.

No. It’s not. He _ knows _ it’s not. Mikasa could have had a younger sibling. If that day had never happened, and her parents were still here, alive,  _ breathing _ , there would be another raven haired little boy or girl residing with them in that house. They would have been nine or ten years old, waiting for their big sister to come home. But  _ what _ of Mikasa? Eren had to have been fated to meet her either way. Would he still influence her like he does now, or would there be a softer, gardener Mikasa with longer tresses, safe at home with her parents right now? Would she write to him? Tell him that she misses him and ask him to come see her when he gets the chance? Greet him at the door wearing an earth-toned dress with lace and bodice?

A Mikasa without war is healthier. Safer.

The mental image makes his heart ache.

“Do you ever think about...what it would’ve been like..?” He can’t finish.

“I do,” she dips her head. “Who knows where I would have ended up if you hadn’t found me? What if it were you and your dad standing on the other side of that door? Sometimes I wonder about the person I would be today, but…”

There’s a but?

“Eren…”

When she says his name like  _ that, _ he finally looks up. Saddened hues resting on hers through his eyelashes. She shares the same look, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth. There’s some hesitation, then:

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” His heart does the stupid flutter thing. “So, in a way...I’m happy.”

Happy?

“You were meant to save me, and I am meant to protect you.”

“Wrong.”

“Wrong?”

He grabs her hand out of impulse, curling his fingers around hers.

“I want you to listen to me. Okay, Mikasa?”

“Okay.”

Hues of teal collide with warm steel. “We. are.  **Equals.** We protect  _ each other _ . Stop trying to make this about you being fated to protect me -”

“Eren -”

“Let me finish. Please.” He tries a gentle approach. Maybe she’ll understand him then. “This is very...hard for me.”

“I know.” Her other hand cups over his. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything else.”

“No, I feel like I do. If I don’t get this out, I’m gonna regret it later. Don’t try to talk me out of it, ‘kay?” When she nods solemnly, he continues, “I wanted us to make these lists because I feel like it might benefit us more? There’s a lot of misunderstanding between us ‘cause we’re so different. Maybe this can be a daily reminder to help us out?”

“Whatever it takes,” she agrees.

“Good.”

“I don’t like it when we fight.”

“You think I ever did?”

Silence falls around them once more, but it’s different now. It’s warmer. She cannot move to hide her smile from him this time, because her hands are encased in his own. He doesn’t let go just yet. He doesn’t want to.

“Eren,” her thumb absentmindedly traces over his knuckles.

“Yeah?” He leans closer.

“I…”

“Everything okay?”

The voice does not belong to either of them, but rather the very blond head of Armin Arlert as he peeps his head into the room with his hand curved around the door. His watchful gaze drifts down to their entwined limbs and close proximity, then back up again, and a knowing smile creeps across his soft features.

“We’re fine, Ar,” Eren says, despite feeling his cheeks burn. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I was looking for you both. It’s getting close to lunch and I was just - I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Armin!”

“Armin, wait -”

The door closes again, leaving the two young adults very flustered.

And yet their hands remain intertwined.


	2. The Empathy Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He crosses his thumb and index and it looks like some sort of heart shape, but before she is befuddled further he extends that same hand and brushes his thumb over her nose. With the hand that still holds hers in his strong grasp, he lifts the entwined limbs slightly as he leans forward. If Mikasa wasn’t flustered then, she is now and he is all to blame. His touch, his close proximity, such a simple action that should mean nothing is everything to her and it’s all she can think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My birthday present to ya'll! Thanks so much for the reads, kudos, and comments! Words cannot express my happiness. I truly apologize for the wait. Writer's block was unkind to me, but I'm making a comeback now that Season 2 is finally out! What did you guys think of the first episode?

“Arlert, your orders!”

The tactician grits his teeth, mind racing a mile a minute. He’s out of blades. His gas is low. He sprained his ankle during a subjugation and by the way this bone is screaming in protest if he twists too much to the left he’s predicting a fractured rib somewhere. He has been through worse predicaments, however he never wishes to thrust this responsibility upon anyone.

His team is stranded and the only person left on his squad is Floche. He is not bothered by this ( Floche isn’t exactly his biggest fan, but they have no choice but to put their differences aside to keep each other alive ) as much as the fact that the person who shot the signal flare is the _ last _ person he wants to see left alone.

“Sasha!”

Expression grave, the huntress presses her lips into a thin line and appraises the other. “I’m down to my last arrow and I’m completely out of gas. We need a miracle.”

Armin grasps her shoulders, squeezing. “Is…?”

“We got separated in the forest of big trees. They’re not dead.” She shakes her head rapidly. “They’re not dead…”

“I know.” Armin offers her a weak smile, lifting a hand to brush his thumb over her jawline. “With Jean’s leadership skills and Connie’s instinct, they can get themselves out of anything. We’ll find them again. I promise.”

“Guys,” Floche says.

“How are you?” Sasha queries, searching Armin over with a desperate hunger. Hoping that she finds nothing. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Nothing too serious.”

_ “Guys.” _

“I saw you limping.” Instinctively, she frees a hand from her grip on her bow to touch him but -

**_“Guys.”_ **

Armin hisses through his teeth quietly.

“You  _ are _ hurt! You liar!”

_ “If you two idiots  _ give even an _ ounce _ of  _ fuck _ s about your lives, turn around  _ right now!”  _ Floche snaps, drawing his blades swiftly from his canister. They are now surrounded by three titans: two out of the three are long and lanky, and the average sized titan has a wide belly and a haunting grin that would have made eight year old Armin piss himself.

Armin grunts and moves himself slightly in front of Sasha, pulling his goggles back down over his eyes.

“Sasha, now’s not the time. You can worry about me when we get back.”

The brunette growls but lifts her bow and pulls her last arrow, closing one eye.

She waits until Armin’s battle command before she lets it fly.

* * *

 

Rage consumes him, and yet he is driven by purpose. It is a last resort. Instinctive.

Eren has become the behemoth. He is aware of everything around him; every move, every sound. His prey, widespread across the plains, are completely slaughtered and steam emits heavily from their lifeless forms. There’s so much of it that he has to rely on his hearing until the smoke clears.

Mikasa is silent ( and very, very microscopic standing in front of him ), blades drawn, knees bent defensively still. Waiting. Listening. Nothing comes, even as she continues to wait with baited breath. You can see her guard come down, gradually, in her body language as it begins to alter. First, she stands straight. Then, she takes one final glance around, lips parting as she finally releases the breath she had been holding for so long. Her heartbeat slows back down to a calming beat, chest heaving as she continues to inhale and exhale. Her shoulders sag. Slides her blades back into place and checks her gas, freeing a hand to brush her hair out of her face. 

“We should find the others,” she speaks, it’s merely a suggestion, but the insinuation is priority. Peering up at the titan shifter, their eyes lock immediately. “Shall we go then?”

Eren comprehends. The titan nods his head and stoops low, outstretching a hand so the raven can climb on. Once situated, he stands to his full height and makes a beeline for the second signal flare that has now been shot in the air.

* * *

 

He dreams of her.

He remembers this vividly because he hasn’t dreamed in a long time. His slumber is either void, a brief period of sweet relief until he wakes again to this hell, or full of cruel reminders of what lies ahead of his future. His past. And by now he walks into his nightmares with a heavy, ready stride, prepared for what’s to come because there is not a thing he hasn’t seen or experienced. There is not a horror that can frighten him more than what has already happened to him. Losing his mother. The betrayal of Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt. The death of the Special Operation Squad. Discovering the truth about Grisha and his beastly half-brother. Narrowly escaping death so many times that he’s accepted Ymir’s Curse as punishment for cheating it, despite the hunt for a cure.

And yet when he wakes the following morning, a solid eight hours after he had fallen asleep, he has that strange feeling in his chest again that only intensifies as he thinks about the series of pleasant events that occurred in his subconscious. It was him and Mikasa, but...in an alternate reality of some sort. He got to see her happy. He got to see her smile and laugh. He would go through his day just to come home to her cooking a nice, warm meal for him, or maybe she was in the garden that she grew herself. Her appearance was the same one he conjured of her in a life without him: the long hair, the softer curves, the dress, everything. She looked... _ radiant _ . And radiant isn’t in Eren’s  _ vocabulary _ .

_ “You didn’t write.” _

Not to mention the -

_ “I’m sorry,” Eren felt himself say as he closed the door behind him. _

_ “Are you?” Mikasa stopped stirring the pot, a skeptical eyebrow arching over her features. She’s clearly unimpressed, and only seconds away from giving him another lecture, but he began to feel the longing and desire creep up on him like waves as he drew closer to her. The way she was looking at him now, bottom lip pulled through her teeth in a timid fashion, combined with the amazing smell coming from her skin just did it for him. _

_ “C’mere,” he said, pulling her close. Her arms draped around him and he cupped the back of her head. Huh. Knew she couldn’t stay mad at him for long. “I missed you. A lot.” A lost mumble that somehow reached her spectacular hearing. _

_ The young woman sighed in the embrace that only grew more intimate the longer they stood there. “I missed you too.” Mikasa lifted her face from his shoulder and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I was seconds away from coming after you,” she breathed against his skin, making his heart race. _

_ “Oh yeah?”  _

_ Mikasa only hummed in reply, kissing the corner of his mouth this time. _

His cheeks redden considerably.

Maybe because he’s selfish and he always expected her and Armin to be by his side forever, no matter what.

Maybe because he wants her to have a happy life because he’s her friend and he cares about her.

Or maybe, just maybe, there’s a small flicker of hope that flutters inside his chest at the mere thought of having a future with her.

_ Wait...what? _

Eren’s confused, groggy noises wake Armin up. The Survey Corp’s tactician rubs the sleep out of his eyes and sits up, gaze narrow as he attempts to appraise the other from across the room. It’s still dawn. How is the titan shifter up so early?  “Eren? Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” Eren mumbles into his pillow.

_ How would you feel if you dreamed about kissing someone you shouldn’t be dreaming about kissing? _

“I’m here if you want to talk about it,” Armin offers, resting on his side.

“Thanks, Ar,” Eren throws over his shoulder. “You should go back to sleep.”

“So should you.”

_ I know _ . “Eh. I’m probably gonna be up for a while.”

His restlessness leads him out of bed and down to the dining hall as his stomach begins to rumble like the overcast just outside the window. The perks of being the first and only person there is he gets first dibs. Fresh food. Fresh tea brewed. The seat by the window -

\- thaaat is currently being occupied by the person he was hoping to avoid today... _great._

She doesn’t see him yet because her back is facing him.

He swallows, hard. Inhales. It’s a task. A task to  _ fucking breathe _ .

_ Why am I feeling... _ His hand instinctively clutched his stomach, where the incessant fluttering continues to the point of no return. He’s starting to hate it now, honestly. Maybe he _ should’ve  _ asked Armin to come with him. Would’ve made this a hell of a lot less awkward.

“Eren?”

_ Shit. _

No turning back now.

“How did you know it was -?” he starts hoarsely as he comes closer, voice still deepened from slumber and lack of use. His hair is probably ridiculous. He never bothered to wash up before coming down ( oh because, maybe, he wasn’t expecting company this early ), so he should probably keep heavy breathing to a minimum.

“I know your footsteps,” she says simply.

“Oh.” Damn. He’s not even bothered by her memorization of him by  _ foot _ . Was he  _ that  _ loud coming in?

As he circles around to sit across from her at the table, he takes her in. Slowly. Dressed in a white nightgown and a robe to match, with her hair pinned behind her ears, Mikasa still somehow manages to _ best _ him. The more he looks at her, the tougher it is to find a single imperfection.

His watchful gaze lingers over the scar on her cheek, still prominent after so long. Saddens just as their eyes meet for the first time since he came in.

“Does that...ever bother you?” he asks her quietly, gesturing towards his own cheek as he is finally seated.

She automatically knows every meaning behind his words. Physical pain, emotional pain, all of it. But she shakes her head and folds her arms over the table, leans forward until her sternum presses against the wooden surface. “No.”

He grunts - typical Eren when he doesn’t know what to say - and mirrors her without a given thought. He puts his head down, though. Lets his head loll on his arms and peers up sideways at her.

“You’re not usually up this early unless you’re told to,” Mikasa notes. “Are you alright?”

“‘M fine.” Another lost mumble, this time in reality. Flickers of the dream play across his mind just at that moment, to remind him of the vivid events that he obliviously longed for, somewhere, somehow. Some way. “When’d you come in here?”

“It’s been half an hour, almost,” she answers him.

When her fingers suddenly begin a bold trek through his messy tresses, he closes his eyes and releases a groan, subconsciously leaning into her touch.

But she stops.

And he almost  _ whines _ .

“Am I overstepping your boundaries?” she breathes.

“Are you kidding?” Better response than,  _ “Don’t be stupid” _ , which is _ probably _ what he would have told her if they were fifteen again. He’s getting better at this, he thinks. “Do it again,” he lies his head back down, letting his eyes close again.

She obliges and hums, now using both of her hands.

“I’m sorry,” the raven begins.

“For what?”

“I...don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Talk.”

Her lips press. “I’m thinking about the list. I don’t want to look too deeply into things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” her cheeks, unbeknownst to him, redden with embarrassment ( and something else..? ).

“C’mon, Mikasa. If we’re talkin’ about the list, it was _ you _ who said you’d open up to me. This is me trying to communicate. So fess up.”

“Okay. That’s fair.” Her voice trembles a little, and he catches it. “I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re okay with us... _embracing,”_ a beat, “then is it alright for me to…?”

“To what, Mikasa?”

“To initiate,” she doesn’t exactly say the words, but Eren doesn’t need them. He knows that she wonders if it’s okay to hug him whenever the opportunity presents itself. Possibly in front of their comrades. 

After saving Armin, Sasha, and Floche, the ride back in the carriages was quiet. Eerily so. It wasn’t because of the loss of soldiers, which was always a given, but Sasha and Connie weren’t keeping the atmosphere light with their expert optimism. Hell, Jean didn’t even bother making side comments about Eren and Mikasa, which he tended to do when he was releasing his outlet for apparent jealousy.

Eren wasn’t sure if Sasha was so shaken that she was rendered speechless, or if it was all in her head and she was indirectly making herself feel worse. Either way, it wasn’t really any of his business to know and he had more important things to reflect over. 

‘Sides, they’ve gone through hell and back together as comrades. Surely something as little as this didn’t disturb her this much, right?

Beside him, Mikasa was watching her interact with Armin. How soft Sasha was with him, how they’d exchange timid smiles whenever they caught the other’s eye. Then Sasha would always break eye contact first for some reason. 

It made Mikasa wonder if there was something her friend was hiding from her.

“You alright?”

Eren was the first one to break the silence. He was met with several gazes, but his question was mostly directed to the raven next to him. Slightly startled by the sudden attention, Mikasa sought solace in her scarf and began to tuck her face inside.

Until Eren caught her hand whilst still peering down at his boots, unseeing really. He could feel her gaze burning into the side of his head while her hand remained gripped by his own. He didn’t know how deeply he was affecting her, how a simple action such as this would make her blush and stumble over her words: “I-I’m fine.”

_ He did,  _ however, catch the tremble in her voice and finally turned to face her and see what she was goin’ on about. Maybe it was time for him to shoot for that _ empathy _ thing and see how it went. 

He was only to be met with the side of her face, shielded by her dark tresses. He’s officially thrown into the dark there. Disappointed and dampened hope clenched his jaw, but he made no sound of disapproval, nor did he lessen his grip on her. He wasn’t gonna let her get away with it so easily. He wanted answers, and he was gonna get ‘em, no matter what it took.

Was this what it was like to be her, when he kept things from her? When he shut her out?

How did she even put up with him, he’ll never know.

“Don’t lie,” he said.

Still holding her hand, by the way.

“I’m not lying,” she said, unmoving.

“Then look at me.”

Mikasa chewed on her bottom lip. That much he saw. Then there’s some hesitation, her chest rising as she inhaled, and she finally gave in and angled herself towards him before lifting her face to meet his gaze.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, firmly this time.

There was nothing wrong with her, as far as his eyes could see. And he could see pretty damn well when he was focused.

“Was that so hard?” He shook their entwined hands, but it’s the momentum that separates them, their union torn apart by his oblivious undoing. He did not catch the crestfallen look that shone in her eyes, for he was focused on something entirely different.

“No,” she whispered.

Eren swallows again. Yet another memory plagues his thoughts. “Yeah. Yeah that’s fine.”

Her hands leave his hair, but it is only to tentatively grasp his arm instead, fingers curving around the muscle. “And...this?”

At this point, Eren doesn’t care what she does to him. There’s a line. They’re both aware of that line. Where it lies exactly, he finds it troubling to pinpoint. During their adolescence, it was simple and self-explanatory: she couldn’t exactly hold his hand out of the blue without a given explanation. He was uncomfortable with casual public displays of affection and was just as awkward expressing it.

But now as he straightens his posture and scoops her hands up in his grasp, he’s not so sure how he’d feel if certain boundaries between them were broken. Could he allow this to go...further? And could he possibly like it?

His fingers entwine with hers, making it harder for him to think straight.

Mikasa’s breath catches.  _ What are you doing? _  Her eyes read.

And oh how her thoughts  _ scream _ .

“Don’t make it weird,” he tells her.

But there’s this twinkle in his eyes now, and it’s the way he’s looking at her now that makes her heart race. _ What does this mean? Eren, what are you saying? I am confused. Please help me understand _ .  _ Please, please help me _ .

“What am I doing wrong?” she expresses her worry through furrowing eyebrows and a response that falls breathlessly on her own ears, embarrassingly.

“You’re thinking too much into it.” He crosses his thumb and index and it looks like some sort of heart shape, but before she is befuddled further he extends that same hand and brushes his thumb over her nose. With the hand that still holds hers in his strong grasp, he lifts the entwined limbs slightly as he leans forward. If Mikasa wasn’t flustered then, she is now and he is all to blame. His touch, his close proximity, such a _ simple action _ that should mean nothing is  _ everything _ to her and it’s all she can think about. 

He is cruel for making her this way. 

He is entirely at fault. 

How  _ dare _ him.

“I’m so -”

“Nope,” the two digits close around her lips.

She stares.

_ Did he really just -? _

“Yes.”

Mikasa squints and Eren presses his lips tightly together so he doesn’t laugh at her. The  _ audacity _ -

She swats him away in a feeble fashion with her free hand. “You’re silly.” She doesn’t mind the current occupancy of the other, even as her heart continues to crash against her ribcage. In fact, she can sit this way with him for a long time but...she’s not sure how  _ he _ feels about it. His motives still remain unclear to her and she becomes cautious.

“How are your bandages?” he asks her out of the blue, albeit offhandedly.

“Um,” now that she’s thinking about it - “they could be changed.” And blood starts to stink after it sits for a long time. 

Eren wrinkles his nose as if he hears that very thought cross her mind. “Yeah.” But then he asks, “Need a hand?” and her lips part in shock. Of course she doesn’t need help, she -

_ “Let me know when your bandages need to be changed. I’ll fix ‘em,” he says. _

_ “You won’t have to. I heal proficiently too, remember?” she points out. _

_ “Yeah, yeah, but still. You’re not invincible, you know.” _

Her breath catches. She can’t say no to him. How could she possibly resist him after it was his insistence in the first place?

Mikasa hums, “Okay,” and comes to a stand first, her hand finally slipping from his grip, and she’s already longing for his touch again. He is up just as quickly, the ever so oblivious to his effect on her still, and they begin to head back where they came, padding together in a synchronous stride. There is temptation to lean in just a little further. If she is just a little closer, she can touch his knuckles with her fingertips. Link their fingers maybe, if he is okay with it.

She refrains, and it makes her heart ache.

Upon their entrance, Mikasa checks her room first before she gives him the okay to come in. Sasha isn’t in her bed, which could mean one of two things: she is either washing up or she’s up to something that can possibly get her in trouble. The raven doubts her friend has snuck off to steal meat from their superiors, but some old habits die hard and she would occasionally get amusement from it.

“Okay,” she murmurs, mostly to herself. Eren is currently appraising his surroundings, unbeknownst to Mikasa’s staring. 

Or maybe he _is_ and that’s _why_ he’s not looking at her.

She wets her lips.

All of a sudden she’s finding it hard to breathe. And speak. And think properly. And exist.

“Can you...close the door?” she manages to squeak out.

“Oh! Right, sorry.” Eren turns immediately to oblige her request, closing the door behind him. “Forgot about that.”

“I need to change,” she tells him matter-of-factly, albeit slipping her robe off her shoulders in a timid fashion.

“Er,” he watches the article of clothing fall to the floor and the heat _creeps_ back up to his cheeks. “Do I need to leave?”

“No,” she answers him in a small voice. “Stay, please.”

Eren gulps. 

“Are you, um, wearing -?” he makes an embarrassing gesture with his hands, circling motions around his pectoral area for emphasis.

She actually rolls her eyes. “Yes, Eren.”

“Oh, okay. Um, go ahead then. I’ll just…” He doesn’t wait for her response, quickly turning around when her nightgown reaches her midriff and he catches a glimpse of her undergarments. White and skin-hugging. He shouldn't _know that_. He feels dirty for looking.  _God._ “Tell me when you’re good.”

“You can look.”

“Okay.”

He is  _ not _ prepared by what he’s about to see.


	3. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steel and turquoise break gaze to size the other up from head to toe, toe to head, as the growing tension begins to rise between the two young adults. Mikasa’s only a breath away. He can see every little detail of her face, close enough that he could count each and every one of her eyelashes, if he wanted. Kiss her forehead, if he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly humbled by the positive feedback this fic has received. Again, I apologize for the wait and I will try my best to keep a - somewhat - regular updating schedule. Much love, okie! 
> 
> As always, your love and support is what fuels my fire and keeps me going. Happy reading.

“Where do you want me?”

A single beat passes.

Then two.

Then three.

“Eren?”

However, all the young man can muster is a grunt upon acknowledgement and a weak jab to the bed with his thumb, gaze dead at his shoes, doing his damndest to not look at her pointedly below her face. This is going to be difficult to maintain because in order to check how she’s healing, he has to do the exact opposite of that. But it is exactly what he asked for. He walked himself into this situation without expecting the unnecessary, additional flurry of feelings to come with it. And now Mikasa probably thinks he’s some sort of  _ creep  _ or something because his hormones are starting to flare and it is clearly affecting his behavior. What sends him deeper into befuddlement is the mere fact that just two nights ago, the only thing that kept him from seeing her this way was the shirt that she wore, and even then she had to remove some layers just so he can dress to her wounds. Everything was fine. No problem.

Keyword:  _ was _ .

Obliging without a sound, the bed dips just as Mikasa sits, hands curved over the edge on each side of her ivory thighs. She waits for him to speak again for further instruction.

Mistake number two. 

What was the first? Thinking it was a good idea to not bring Armin with him this morning.

Among so... _ so _ many more things.

“Where’s your kit?” Eren continues to not look at her while he starts an aimless stride. Pacing almost. The discomfort is evident in his body language; the tautness in his jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders as he holds them upright, the lethargic way his feet drag across the floor. The fucked up part about it is he’s doing everything in his power to prolong the process. Maybe she’ll change her mind. Maybe she doesn’t need observance. Maybe she is right and she can do this on her own and she’ll be doing this herself and he can  _ get the hell out of there - _

“Top shelf,” she tells him, pointing her index finger.

Aaand all hope is shattered.

He is able to follow it without risk of looking elsewhere and takes two more steps to the right, back facing her as he digs through her drawer. He swears, if it’s her underwear drawer -

“Ah,” he murmurs to himself with relief as he feels the contour(?) of the box, withdrawing it from its place, and it opens with a faint popping sound. The gauze wrap lays atop of everything else.

He swallows.

“Eren -”

He hushes her with a look. 

Mikasa’s lips press into a thin line and obliges as Eren kneels down in front of her, his gaze gradually falling from her face to stare at...other places. The insecurity creeps into the raven’s system, making her nervous when she knows she shouldn’t be, and all of a sudden she has the urge to cover her chest and legs. It is not that she doesn’t want him looking at her ( in fact, it’s quite the opposite; she’s always wanted him to look at her ---- but not in the way he thinks ), but rather she wishes she had a softer, smaller body. She feels bulky and masculine and unattractive, and she knows this shouldn’t matter in times like this where she should be focused on her physical health, but she is and now she can’t breathe and ---

“Done.”

_ Oh. _

Eren comes to a stand, eyeing her speculatively. “What’s wrong?”

The answer arrives without pause: “Nothing.”

“Uh huh.”

“Really.”

“Sure, Mik.”

Sincerity laces her tone. Makes it soft. “Thank you.”

His almost matches hers. “You’re welcome.”

Silence.

Until it becomes blunt - “Now can you put some clothes on?” - and they’re back to a flustered,  _ embarrassed _ square one.

“R-Right.”

Eren awkwardly faces the door as she gets up, hearing the rustle of clothing as they slide against her skin, and gulps. He was able to make it through the entire process without messing up. Lucky for him, Mikasa seemed to be wrapped up in her own thoughts the entire time. What was going on in her head?

“You ready now?”

“Yes.”

He turns.

_ “Mikasa!” _

And turns  _ right  _ back around, covering his reddening face with his hand.

“What?” comes the amused voice of his best friend.

“That’s.. _.not -” _

She giggles. “Sorry.”

Hearing her laugh is rare, but the sound is enough to bring a relaxed grin to his face, shaking his head.

“I’ll _ make _ you sorry,” he blurts out, unprepared for the consequences as he makes a one-eighty turn to face her once more.

The young woman before him stands with an arching eyebrow and a shirt that remains halfway unbuttoned. She has paused in her movements, hands now dropping to her sides as she falls into a slow stride, approaching him with purpose and questionable intentions. She stops when she is right in front of him, toe to toe, faces inches apart. 

_ Dear god _ .

“Really?” It’s a dare, and he would be a fool to accept it.

But Eren Jaeger never backs down from a challenge, especially when provoked from the other person. It’s usually _ Jean _ though, which results in a series of insults followed by ass kicking.

This is different.

“M _ hm _ .” 

Completely and  _ entirely  _ different.

“I have the strength of a thousand men,” she threatens lightly. Really, Mikasa, do you have to go over your resume - “My specialty is slicing flesh and I am known for my stealth and remarkable precision. Do you really think you have a chance against me?”

“I’m  _ shaking, _ Mikasa.” He snorts. “And in case you forgot,” his hands ghost over her open blouse to fasten the last remaining buttons, “all it takes is a _ single _ ounce of pain for me to turn into what I was made to kill. Do you really think _ you _ have a chance against  _ me? _ ”

Her gaze befalls to his hands as he does so, amusement dancing in her dark hues. Fighting a scoff when he fastens the last button for good measure, Mikasa returns her gaze to Eren, who continues to stare at her and wait for her response.

Rose colored lips part to retort: “I can take you.”

Steel and turquoise break gaze to size the other up from head to toe, toe to head, as the growing tension begins to rise between the two young adults. Mikasa’s only a breath away. He can see every little detail of her face, close enough that he could count each and every one of her eyelashes, if he wanted. Kiss her forehead, if he wanted.

“Bet you could,” Eren breathes. Is he expressing his thoughts out loud, or is he speaking directly _ to  _ her?

The mental image makes the monster inside purr.

“Eren,” his name is liquid honey on her tongue. 

But he  _ panics. _

“You shouldn’t leave your shirt open like that,” the awkward young man grumbles out, ashamed of his own cowardice as he forces himself away from her, taking the first few steps back to the door. He needs to leave. Now. Before he continues to make a fool of himself. “People’ll think you’re up to somethin’.”

She is monotonous when she replies: “My mistake. It won’t happen again.”

His heart wrenches.

* * *

 

Jean’s leg continues to bounce as his impatience intensifies. This meeting could not go for any longer, he would think. But then ten minutes turn into twenty. And twenty into thirty. 

Truth be told, it’s an honor to be in Commander Hange’s place, but that doesn’t come without its drawbacks. He is expected to speak properly, give his two cents without being too honest ( and there are a few aristocrats in here whom he’d like to punch for their prudeness ), and be an example of what the Survey Corps is supposed to be and represent: a symbol of hope for humanity and unstoppable power against the titans. It’s not hard, but there are a few moments where he has to bite his tongue, sit back, and let these bastards talk.

Historia, the matriarch of this room, as well as his only friend and ally present, handles herself well. She takes questions ( more like jabs ) with elegance, posture straight, chin high. He’d laugh at the sandles she wears under the table, if he could. At every political event he has attended, Historia has always dressed comfortably. Wish he could have that luxury. He’d never hear the end of it from Captain Levi.

He isn’t aware of Historia’s growing agitation towards him and his bouncing leg until he feels her dainty ( but mighty ) hand clamp down on his thigh and squeeze. He only jumps a little, but his eyes are already traveling the table for a brief glance to see if anyone saw.

Historia, however, seems to give no fucks whatsoever, and does not break stride in her speech. Jean remains absolutely rigid, however his attention is now on her hand placement and he wonders what lengths the queen would go to keep him still. Part of the theory makes him frightened. The other? 

A little... _ excited _ .

“Cadet...Cadet Kirschstein!”

Historia digs her fingernails in and -

_ Fuck _ , it’s starting to hurt now.

Through gritted teeth: “Yes, sir.”

“Your thoughts?”

Oh shit.

“Right, uh,”  _ shitshitshit  _ \-- “My thoughts on the - in regards to - ”

“I apologize on Cadet Kirschstein’s behalf,” Historia interjects, eyes sparkling dangerously. Yep. He’s getting a lecture later. “-- But if you ask him too, you’re getting the same answer. You’re putting your funds into something meaningful - not for nothing. We’re saving lives and benefiting the children. They are our future. The Survey Corps are the best to protect it.”

Ah. The Underground debate.

“And what of the Military Police? Are you doubting their stellar services?”

“If by services you mean intoxicating themselves to no return and letting all the new recruits do the dirty work for them, then yeah, they’re fucking  _ fantastic,” _ Jean blurts out.

_ “Jean,”  _ Historia warns quietly, pressure increasing on his leg.

His hand clamps down on hers abruptly ( the tiny little gasp she makes is almost enough for him to start smirking; he holds this back with extreme difficulty ), causing their fingers to intertwine ever so slightly. 

“Am I wrong? _ Your majesty?” _

Historia’s jaw clenches.

Two can play at this game.

She swallows and returns her attention to the discussion at hand: “Unfortunately, he is correct. Your superior officers are a reflection of their entire elite. If civilians aren’t trusting those who are supposed to keep them safe, who can they turn to?”

“Please. There are no titans left within the walls -”

“Are you sure about that?”

“We’ve been proven wrong more than once.”

_ “Your _ people made a statement claiming otherwise!” A fat finger with a ring on the index jabs points at Jean.  _  “There are no titans within the city, _ you said! They have all been exterminated like the _ scum  _ they are! Are you saying this is a _ lie?” _

Jean’s temper rises.  _ “No, _ but -”

“But there have been titans among us, disguised as humans,” Historia comes in for the save, this time intertwining their fingers completely under the table. “Cadets Annie Leonhardt, Reiner Braun, and Bertholdt Hoover for example. They were one of us and we never even knew.”

“And yet you let Leonhardt roam free in your forces. What do you have to say about  _ that?” _

“It’s not without difficulty,” Jean answers gravely. He would have rather gone the rest of his life without knowing how Marco died. He would have rather let the Military Police take Annie back and do whatever they wanted to her. Literally anything but this.

With her other hand, Historia caresses his skin, letting the pads run across his knuckles. As if she could read his very thoughts. Know his pain.

“How do you know she’s not plotting against you as we speak?”

He’s just glad Mikasa finally sided with him on something.

“We don’t.”

“But we trust Captain Levi,” Historia says. 

“Hmph.  _ Of course _ .”

_ I’m about sick of this bastard _ .

“If you wish to speak with him personally, that can be arranged, sir.” Historia’s perfectly arched eyebrow arches.

The other pales. “N-No. That won’t be necessary, your majesty! We will continue to fund your organization. I was just -”

“Enough. Dismissed.”

Jean is one of the first to get out of his seat, desperate to leave the stuffy room. He needs air,  _ desperately, _ and if he lets his anger get the best of him he was gonna harm someone. However, Historia’s hand keeps him from stepping a mere _ foot _ away from her, murmuring a stern, _ “Wait,”  _ as the various men and women depart.

They don’t speak until they’re alone.

“--- What?” Jean breaks it first, eyes falling on a very disapproving queen, her arms folded tersely across her bosom. “He was askin’ for it.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to antagonize him more.”

He snorts. “Whatever. It’s done.”

“No. It’s not.”

“Why not?”

“Because this isn’t the end of discussion. I still have something to say.”

“Go on, then.” He mirrors her, folding his own arms across his chest. “Spit it out.”

Historia huffs. “Don’t think I’m ungrateful for you being here, Jean. You’re my friend and the only person I can talk to. But I need you to be serious about this. Hange’s looking to you as her successor.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” It comes out in a grumble.

“Hey.” Her dainty hand curves around his tricep as she takes a step closer. “You were  _ destined _ for this. You’ve always been a great leader. You never sugarcoat things. I just...I know these guys aren’t exactly the kindest, but they are the ones financially responsible for our shelter. We need all the help we can get.”

He groans. “But -”

“I know. I would’ve gave ‘em a piece of my mind if I wasn’t, y’know.”

“Yeah.” This brings a bemused twinkle in his eyes. “Woulda loved to see that happen. You came close for a second there.”

She smiles. Laughs softly and drops her hand to her side. “C’mon.” Only to seek out his hand, index and thumb wrapping around his wrist albeit bashfully. “I’ll treat to lunch. Are you hungry?”

Jean flashes her a lopsided grin, bemusement dancing in his eyes. “Starved.”

* * *

 

“So you flirted with her.”

“I -- what? Are you _ crazy? _ I wasn’t  _ flirting _ with Mikasa! I don’t even know what flirting  _ is!” _

_ He’s hopeless, _ Armin sighs to himself as he treks along the path with Eren back to headquarters. Having been let in on what happened this morning, it’s safe to say that he’s rather entertained by his best friend’s antics. However, he is also worried for Mikasa’s sake. The poor girl’s been suffering through Eren’s mixed signals for so long now that it’s no wonder she gets upset after being led on!

“Do you have an  _ idea  _ of what it is?” Armin queries.

“Uhm. I guess, yeah?”

“Go on.”

“Isn’t it when, like, you’re all up in someone’s face? And you say...stuff?”

His head tilts. “Partially. But yes. And there’s teasing involved, moreso with romantic or suggestive undertones.”

“Teasing?”

“Yes, Eren.”

“...You lost me, Ar.”

“Figured as much.”

It takes Eren a second. “How do you know this? Are you some kind of expert or something?”

Unblinking. “No. I just pay attention. Maybe you should do the same.”

“Hey! I’m working on it, okay? I promised her that I’d - ugh. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“Have you told her that?”

“...Not really, no.”

“Well,” Armin nudges Eren, nods his head towards the entrance where the object of Eren’s affection awaits. “Here’s your chance.”

Eren and Mikasa’s eyes meet just as Armin falls silent. Armin has to push him along, all the while greeting the raven with an exuberant, “Hey, Mika!” signaling their arrival. The sound of Armin’s voice snaps Mikasa out of her reverie, offering him the smallest of smiles and a sheepish wave, and Armin waves back.

_ Everything’s gonna be okay, Mikasa, _ he thinks at her.  _ He just needs time, is all! _

Eren stops when he’s right in front of her. Armin hangs back, lets him handle this on his own.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

_ Great start, Eren _ .

“What do you need?” she queries.

If he’s gonna be  _ honest _ here - “You.”

The rosy tint in her cheeks becomes a vibrant color. “M-Me?” 

“Yes.” The word comes out slow on Eren’s end, voice rising an octave as if he is questioning himself.

“You...need me?” It’s like she’s unfamiliar with these words,  _ foreign _ to the idea of them associated with her in the same sentence. 

_ I always need you _ . “Are you seriously making me say it again, Mikasa?”

“Not at all.” She hides her smile in her scarf. Why does she do that? Does she not want him to see her smile? That’s stupid. “It’s just...nice to hear you say it. That’s all.”

Eren inhales deeply. Okay. That makes his stomach do the flippy thing. With a steady hand, he takes the hand that shields her and pulls it down from her face. Dawdling. Idly. Watching as her facial expression changes, contorting into something warmer. Tender.  _ Vulnerable _ . He holds the limb in his grasp firmly, not planning to let go until he gets his point across. She only makes his motives more difficult when she cups her free hand over his.

So to retaliate, _ he _ covers  _ her _ other hand with _ his _ free one.

_ Jeez, Mikasa, do you  _ **_have_ ** _ to dominate in  _ _ everything _ _? _

“Surprising, huh?” His voice takes on a more husky tone as he lowers it, takes the smallest of steps towards it so she can hear him.

Mikasa has to tilt her chin up slightly to maintain eye contact with him. “Just a little bit.”

_ “Oh.” _

“Sorry.”

This feels...right. Being here with her.

“I’m actually kinda offended. Thanks.”

“Have you  _ met _ you?”

Holding her hands.

“I would _ fight  _ me.”

Being able to talk to her comfortably.

“I would advise against that. You might actually kill yourself.”

This _ close. _

“Like you’d let that happen.”

Despite the _ war  _ raging on in the pit of his gut.

“I would never.”

What’s... _ happening? _

This is the part where he flees. It’s what he’s good at.

This is the part where he breaks the spell and shatters her. He’s good at that too.

Send her crashing down from the cloud nine she is on because he’s oblivious and confused and shuts down whenever something remotely good happens to him. Because it never  _ lasts _ . Happiness. It’s a flicker of  _ hope, _ a moment of  _ solace,  _ until it’s  **ripped** away just as quickly and selfishly.

If he lets himself go, if he just _ listened to his heart  _ and went with his _ instincts, _ then maybe, just  _ maybe _ -

Maybe...what?

How exactly were you gonna finish that?

You don’t even know what this is, do you?

That whatever this is, whatever you wanna  _ call  _ it, exists solely between you and Mikasa and no matter what you try to do to  _ hide _ it, you can’t deny it?

You’re lying to yourself. Lying to  _ her _ .

It’s pathetic really.

How long do you think you can keep this up before you  _ lose _ her?

His jaw grows taut.

“I know.”

Mikasa senses the mood shift. Whatever’s going on in his mind can be a number of things and she can probably name a good ninety nine point nine percent of them. 

“Eren?”

It’s that one percent that leaves her in the dark.

“Eren,” she tries again, but to no avail. She is able to slip a hand from his grip whilst he remains in his daze; pulls her bottom lip through her teeth as she lifts it to touch his face with tentativeness. “Are you with me?”

Her touch sends a warm shiver down his spine, makes his heartbeat  _ spike.  _ His gaze focuses onto hers, teal against steel.

“I’m with you,” he mutters finally, subconsciously leaning into her touch. “‘m sorry.”

_ He. is going. to be the end. of her.  _ “It’s okay. It’s fine...Are you feeling lightheaded? Do you need to eat something?”

His stomach answers for him, releasing a guttural rumble of protest.

“...I could go for a bite.”

“My thoughts exactly.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t rub it in.” Eren throws a look over his shoulder. “Coming, Armin?”

Armin jumps at being spotted so suddenly ( _ seriously, Eren, warn a guy, will ya? _ ), but is quick to join them and catches up instantaneously. “Right behind you!”


	4. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pads of his fingers leave warm tingles on sensitive skin, skirting upward to grasp a bare shoulder blade as the other trembles from the raging war outside his window. He tilts his head forward until he meets her, gently. An instinctive flinch from the raven saddens him, and yet he persists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2000+ VIEWS, you guys? I am beyond humbled and amazed by the feedback this fic has received. Thank you for your patience and love. I'll try my best to be more consistent with updates, especially since I'm dissatisfied with the lack of fics in the Eremika tag on tumblr.

He is expecting company tonight.

The storm continues to rage on outside his window, thunder claps in continuum with deafening crescendo. Lightning illuminates the night sky, creating a vivid canvas of whites and greys. He is awake. Dazed, but there. Existing. Ever so existing.

There is only a matter of time before he --- finally --- hears the familiar  _ rap, tap, tap _ against his door, and he is throwing his blanket off of his gangly limbs, padding barefoot across the short distance between him and his destination. He skips over that one floorboard that creaks and wrenches the door open with a steady hand.

She never did like thunderstorms.

“Did I wake you?” she murmurs, gaze remaining downcast but drifting.

“Never went to sleep.”

“It’s late.”

“And you’re here.”

Lightning flashes, thunder cracks.

Steel hues widen ever so slightly. Attempts to conceal her fear is futile --- he can see past the bullshit. 

“Come on,” he says, pulling on her sleeve. “Don’t just stand there.”

He is instantly reminded of his youth.  _ Their _ youth. Her first week with him and his parents was rough. He always woke up to her sneaking in his bedroom, slipping herself inside the small space she created so the door never creaked, or right when the bed dipped down and she curled herself into a tiny little ball, thinking that if she thought small, she might shrink until she disappeared.

Sometimes, he forgets that she’s human. He forgets that she has fears, weaknesses, because he’s so used to seeing her differently. For the longest time, Mikasa behaved like she was invincible. Like nothing could touch her, not even death, and he believed it. Envied it. How come she never got scared? How come she could exceed him in everything and get away with it because she labeled herself as his protector? It infuriated him. She took his dream, his goals and aspirations, and made him look like a joke in front of their peers. Not to mention the internalized sexism that oozed from growing boys who discussed their relationship behind closed doors, in the deepest hours of the night. While he was  _ still listening _ , fuming silently in his bunk.

_ “Heh. He ain’t so tough.” _

_ “D’ya think he’s all talk?” _

_ “Gotta be. He couldn’t beat Ackerman if he tried.” _

_ “Mikasa is a goddess! I don’t know what she sees in him. That suicidal bastard…” _

_ “He seems to be telling the truth…” _

_ “I believe him.” _

_ “He probably is. No one can fake that kind of pain. Remember what happened to his mom? That would push anybody over the edge.” _

Eren’s throat tightens.

“Are you alright?”

He stammers, “Y-Yeah,” pushes the door closed behind her as quietly as he can manage. His free hand guides her in by resting on the small of her back ( how it got there, he’s got no clue and he’d rather not question it ), and she lingers close to him. Thunder ripples angrily across the night sky, lightning snaps in retaliation, and her pace quickens. He keeps up with her without saying a word, only separating himself from her to climb back in bed and pull down the sheets for her to join him.

Armin’s absence is something Eren has grown accustomed to. The hunt for the cure is intense, and the Survey Corp’s tactician has spent numerous, sleepless nights in the laboratory. There were times where Eren had to go physically remove his best friend from his workplace and bring him back here.

But lately, his job has been taken over by their resident hunter.

* * *

 

“Armin.” He is shaken, gently. “Armin?”

Oceanic pools flutter open to meet warm, chocolate hues, dazed for a moment as reality slowly settles back in. His back aches from being slouched over for so long --- he should really stop that habit -- glasses lain askew across the bridge of his nose.

“Sasha?” the blond young man croaks out as he stifles a yawn, slowly easing his way back up into a proper sitting position. His bones whine in protest. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check up on you. I knew you’d still be down here.”

“What time is it?”

“Time for you to go to bed. C’mon. Up and at ‘em.”

“Sasha,” her name falls breathlessly on his tongue as she hoists him out of his chair with effortless strength. Slender arms leave his torso as he steadies, and he is held by the forearm and wrist, pulled forward by not only her coaxing but the captivating gaze she captures.

“What?”

“I can’t just leave --”

“Yes, you can. And you will.” Almost to the stairs. Yes. 

“No,” he whines - er,  _ insists _ \- pulling in the opposite direction. The more he resists her, the more awake he becomes and he is able to access his internalized strength. If he concentrates, he can be quite strong...

“Stop being difficult!” she pouts -  _ argues _ \- upset at Armin for his defiance and baffled at herself for letting him get the best of her.

“Keep your voice down,” he shushes her, taking her to the side, faced away from the stairway. The fading candlelight makes their surroundings twice as dark, and it’s a challenge to maintain eye contact without being close to her face. He goes for a more physical, and bold, approach, something he doesn’t do and is out of his character. Takes her hands in both of his and draws her closer to his person, close, close,  _ closer _ , until their foreheads brush against each other and he can feel her breath caress his bottom lip. 

“Listen…” he murmurs softly, “I can’t put something like this off. While Hange is away, it’s my responsibility to pick up where she left off. I can’t afford to slack off, even just a little bit. Eren’s counting on me and I -” his voice cracks, “I can’t let him down. Not again.  _ Never _ ...again.”

“When have you _ ever _ let him down?” Sasha’s inquiry is rhetorical, but she cuts him off before he prepares himself to answer her anyway. “Armin, I need  _ you _ to listen to  _ me _ . I know how important finding this cure is. It’s important to me too.” After all, Eren isn’t the only one walking among them with an hourglass looming over his head. Armin may be limited to the usage of his abilities, but, he only has so much time left. And she hates that. Hates that Armin is so hard on himself, hates that she isn’t the one who’s cursed to an irreversible death sentence, hates that she’ll never be able to truly protect him, hates that fate has never been in their favor in the first place,  _ as much  _ as she tries to convince herself otherwise. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I worry about you and I - I’m just -”

The rest of her sentence falls silent on her tongue. She cannot finish, not without revealing how she truly feels about the young man standing before her. And it  _ pains _ her that she can’t be one hundred percent honest with him. She fears losing him over something as silly as feelings. Not when death awaits at every doorstep.

“I know,” Armin gives her hands a reassuring squeeze. “I know.”

But does he?

* * *

 

(  _ He does. _ )

* * *

 

”Aren’t you gonna lie down? You came to sleep, didn’t you?”

It’s Eren’s version of an ice breaker -- filling the silence with something so forthright and undeniably  _ him _ \-- that brings light to dulled hues of steel. Mikasa says nothing. Fights an oncoming smile as she shifts downward to lay on her side, spine curving as she curls herself inward. Eren mirrors her shift, albeit robotically, his hands pulling the sheets upwards as he goes. He makes sure that she is comfortable --- warm, and  _ safe _ \--- tucking her in by the shoulders until they are face to face with one another. The pads of his fingers leave warm tingles on sensitive skin, skirting upward to grasp a bare shoulder blade as the other trembles from the raging war outside his window. He tilts his head forward until he meets her, gently. An instinctive flinch from the raven saddens him, and yet he persists.

“It’s okay,” he says.

“I know,” she says.

“I’m sorry,” the broken man breathes.

“It’s okay,” she echoes.

He frowns at her. It was never okay to  _ begin _ with. She  _ knows _ that. It _ infuriates _ him how much she tries to justify his actions. For every mistake he makes, she comes up with an excuse. Picks him up after every stumble and fall. Dependence makes him... _ weak. _

“Eren.”

Her voice intercepts his thoughts, pulling him out of his train of thought. She has her eyes closed now, having put some space between them so she can press the inside of her cheek into his pillow. The sight gives him a warm, familiar feeling that he can’t decipher just yet.

He clears his throat, blinks rapidly. “Go to sleep, Mikasa.”

“But I -”

“It can wait ‘til morning.”

“It’s important.”

“Save it.”

Mikasa opens an eye, arching a perfect eyebrow.

Eren childishly puts his finger on her eyelid to close it back.

“Eren.”

“Sleep.”

“Please.”

“Now.”

“No.”

“Stop being stubborn.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you let me talk.”

“You can talk to me about it tomorrow.”

She gives. “Fine.”  _ However,  _ “But if you want to keep that hand, I suggest you move it.”

A beat. “I kind of like this hand.”

“Go to sleep, Eren.”

“Shut up, Mikasa.”

* * *

 

When Mikasa wakes the following morning, she is alone. A heavy feeling weighs down on her heart as ivory fingers clench around abandoned sheets, searching for warmth that is supposed to  _ be _ there.

She tries not to dwell on it too much.

It does not come without difficulty.

The task of getting up in itself is draining. Emotionally, physically. She used to be able to get up with inhuman speed almost, ready to face the day head on and overcome her obstacles. She was always up before everybody else, trained the most, pushed her body to the limit. Forged herself into the ultimate weapon so she could defend the people she loved. She acted upon instinct when it came to just that, while academics came naturally to her. She picked up on things quickly, never having to cram for exams or worry about passing. She excelled in everything that she did.

And yet when it comes to Eren Jaeger, she is hopelessly lost, hesitant, and afraid that if she listened to what Sasha and Historia told her during their lost days of innocence, she would lose him forever in a moment of selfishness.

Her head tilts, cheek pressing against the other side of her pillow, peeks open an eyelid to take a subtle glance across the room -- Armin’s side. He isn’t in bed, either, but the neatness of his tucked in sheets give way that he had been by last night, possibly during her slumber, and got the rest he deserved. Good.

The raven finally rises, running her fingers through her tresses as she makes her exit.

* * *

 

"How many more damn tests  _ are  _ there, Armin?" the ever so apathetic Annie Leonhardt drones, unblinking hues of crystal following the journey of the needle right as it punctures her skin.

The gloved hand of the tactician is cool to the touch as it grips her by the elbow, but she is not oblivious to the heat radiating from Armin's skin.

"Unfortunately, I am unable to give an accurate prediction. Would you like a hypothesis?"

"Don't be such a smartass."

"I can't do that, either."

Annie snorts. At least he she can stand. Better to work with than that psychopath, Hange-san.

"How are you adjusting?" he inquiries, adding slight pressure to the syringe.

"Don't pretend like you care. We're not friends, remember?"

He smiles, bemusement dancing around in those  _ stupidly _ blue orbs of his. "Miss Leonhardt, need that I remind you that if it weren't for those who played a part in your capture, your condition could have been a lot worse, if not resulting in your demise? We're trying to save your life. Not end it."

"Because you want to use me as a weapon."

"Essentially, yes, but prior to your trial, we - we discussed the possibilities. We accepted every outcome, if we succeeded, if we failed. We were prepared for anything. The Military Police wanted nothing more than to dissect you." He withdraws, taking a sample of her blood with him.

"What makes you so different?"

He pauses, and they make eye contact for the first time since they started this. "I'm not trying to kill you."

Her lips press into a thin line, disbelieving. Annie may be a lot of things - a monster, a traitor, a  _ murderer _ \- but she is no fool. She'll be  _ damned _ if she falls for that so easily. Doesn't matter that she was taken in, nursed back to health, and tested every other day like she was some damn science project. Armin's lied to her before. Who's to say he's not doing it again?

"Tilt your chin up."

She does.

"Be ready to breathe when I say."

Cold metal presses against hot flesh.

"Inhale."

Easy.

"Exhale."

Done. Rinse, repeat. Rinse, and repeat.

"Have you considered getting your doctorate?"

It comes out monotonous, drips in sarcasm and is rhetoric in nature.

"No." But he answers anyway.

"Are we done?" She hopes. Prays.

"You sure have a lot of questions today."

And all hope is _shattered._ "You aren't answering them," she accuses.

"You haven't answered mine," he bites back. She blinks. "Adjustment?"

_"Fuck_ you."

"Colorful."

"Don't bother wasting your breath, Armin."

The blond peers over his shoulder as Mikasa Ackerman enters the lab, arms folded neatly across her bosom. "Kasa," he sighs, the affectionate change in his tone giving Annie a whiplash. "Care to join us? I could use your assistance."

Annie's "no" is swallowed by Mikasa's, "Thanks, but I'll pass this time, if that's okay."

"No worries," Armin reassures.

And cue the predictable, "Where is Eren?" followed by a breathy, "He wasn't in bed this morning and I've been...searching for him," and Annie rolls her eyes.

"Dunno," he answers honestly. Then he flashes her a lopsided, smug grin and adds artfully, "He looked pretty comfortable the last time I saw him."

Rose colored cheeks blossom against the raven's ivory flesh. Was there something Armin knew that Mikasa didn't?

"Do you know where he could have possibly gone?"

"Not a clue. He could be anywhere."

Mikasa sighs. Annie wants to vomit.

"Hey," Armin reaches her in three casual strides - the length of his long legs providing distance that would have taken his fifteen year old self twice as much effort to catch up with humanity's second strongest - cups her by the shoulder and squeezes warmly. "Maybe Captain Levi's got him running errands or something. Nothing to stress over. He's fine."

She grunts, nods mutely, and remains mum on the subject.

* * *

 

"You sure you okay?" a befuddled Connie Springer queries as he walks alongside an unlikely companion, hands burying themselves into the pockets of his jacket. It's pretty brisk today, given the circumstance. The hustle and bustle of the morning rush have the two longtime allies huddled closer together as they trek down the pebbled path. Whatever coaxed them to visit the markets around town was a curse in itself - Sundays are one of the busiest days out the week, especially after the twelve o'clock hour.

"Yeah, why?" Eren says, eyes flitting over to meet the watchful gaze of the other.

"I dunno. You've just never asked me to hang out, before."

"Oh." Shit, he was right. Aside from Mikasa and Armin, Eren never took the spare time he had to spend with Connie. "Sorry," he mumbles out.

"Don't sweat it, man." Connie elbows him. “Bout time we hung out, anyway. Let’s cut through here.”

Eren grunts in reply, following Connie through a narrow alleyway that leads to the next street. He’s not paying attention too much attention to his surroundings, only going by the sound of Connie’s voice while his thoughts remain elsewhere. This morning he woke up with Mikasa in his arms. How can he even  _ face  _ her after that?

“Whenever I have a lot on my mind, I like to come here to clear my head,” Connie confesses.

“Seriously?” If anything, crowded areas only intensified Eren’s agitation. Extroverts like his ally give him migraines on a bad day.

“Nah, not this place specifically.” He laughs. “I meant just getting away from that damn place. Gets real depressin’ after a while, y’know? After all that’s happened...”

“With Annie?” Eren assumes. He forgets he’s not the only one who suffers.

Connie shrugs. “Her too. Things have changed since we got her back, haven’t ya noticed?”

“Not really, no.”

“Obviously.” Connie snorts. “You’ve got more important things to worry about.” Eren stills. “It’s okay, man. I get it. Between being on Annie Watch all the time and vigorous training, Sash and I haven’t had time to fool around. Er, wait, fuck, that didn’t come out right -”

As Connie continues to ramble, Eren _ finally  _ gets a good look at the young man who used to constantly be under Shadis and Captain Levi’s scrutiny. Tragedy has really taken a toll on Connie as the years passed, making him look almost unrecognizable now. Toned limbs have hardened into muscle, the light in his amber hues absent for months. Bags linger under his eyelid from lack of sleep and pushing himself to his limits with every waking moment ahead. He stands taller in stature - stronger, physically,  _ emotionally _ \- grew out his hair because he grew lazy with keeping it shaved. He’s learned to shoot a bow and gun and disarm if need be.

Eren’s surprised he’s survived this long. 

But then again Connie has a talent of proving people wrong. 

“Tell me somethin’,” Connie speaks up after his ramble, a new tone that Eren can’t quite decipher. It almost makes him concerned.

“Yeah?” He waits, braces.

A sunny grin suddenly spreads across the optimist, throwing Eren  _ completely _ over the loop. “When’s the last time you’ve had chocolate?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I titled this chapter 'Perspective' because I wanted to write from multiple points of view, outside of Eren and Mikasa. The focus of this fic is centered completely around their budding relationship, but I love the Levi Squad and I wanted to sneak some of my favorite pairs in there as well. In light of one of my recent not-so-nice reviews, not only will there be more Eremika interaction next chapter but it will be TWICE as long with additional Jeankuri on the side...Hugs and kisses, cupcakes.


	5. A Quarter to Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He would be angrier had not her hysterics resembled the softest of windchimes, had not her gaze remained steady on his, captivating him, drawing him deeper into their depths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After months and months of letting this draft dust away, I finally decided to finish it. At this point, I don't know where this story is going.

They arrive a quarter to midnight.

Eren shuffles through the darkness with Connie, shoving a small, packaged bag inside his innermost pocket. The impending doom of facing the Captain is inevitable, but then he sees Connie’s sunny grin in the night and he's beginning to think that maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Not only did his ally make him feel like a kid again, but the spirit of his long lost youth had been restored through treats, drinks, and mischief today. He’s missed this, and he couldn't wait to take Mikasa with him the next time the opportunity presented itself. 

_ Huh...Mikasa _ .

He pushes through the double wooden doors with a growing smile on his face, with Connie chuckling behind him.

“Eren!”

It's almost a goddamn _ shame _ , the way his  **entire** body language changes and he swivels in the direction of her voice  _ immediately _ . Just  _ hours  _ ago, he had been avoiding her like she had some kind of disease, yet for the last thirty minutes he had been  _ aching _ to see her. And there she was, clad in her pajamas, a cup of tea with steam still seeping from the brim; it sits on the table by the window, giving way where she had just been, possibly for hours after supper’s end. Waiting for his return.

“Oh! Hey, Mikasa. Can’t say I’m surprised to see you up so late,” Connie greets with a sheepish look of his own.

She regards him with a nod, eyebrows slightly furrowing in disapproval. “You two vanished for the evening. Had not you returned any later, I was going to resort to a search party. It’s past curfew.”

“Curfew? Aw, c’mon. I was just showing Eren a good time, ‘s all. He was safe with me.” Connie winks. Eren groans. “And judging by the look on your face, I’m guessing you worried yourself over too much? Aaa…” His voice trails off awkwardly as Mikasa’s gaze darkens. “Y’know what? I’m going to bed! Catch you later, man.” Connie’s elbow brushes against Eren’s as he makes a beeline for the corridors, taking a swift turn on his first right (possibly in panic). Once completely escaping Eren’s eyesight, he begrudgingly makes eye contact with the very girl he was waiting to see - all the while second-guessing his life choices right now. Maybe he should have obeyed and accepted the bread from Armin without hurting the boy’s feelings. Maybe he should have let Mikasa hold his hand in public despite Carla’s demand to do otherwise for the safety of both children. Maybe he should have treated her better before their very first battle. Maybe he should have just let that one titan eat him. Yep. That’s it. That’s the one.

He sighs.

The reason why people have so much trouble reading Mikasa is because she won’t let them. She’s spent years building up her walls and guarding her heart that it’s nearly  _ impossible _ for her to let you in unless you are of some kind of value to her. In Eren’s case, though, she is unable to hide. If given enough reason and depending on the circumstance, she will crumble right in front of him.

Mikasa draws near with an unreadable expression, and he braces himself for impact. Gulps.

One beat passes.

Then two.

And by the third, she’s twining her arms around his neck and clinging herself to him, chest to chest, heart to heart, and buries her face in his shoulder. Her bosom is soft, warmed from her beverage, and a deep contrast to the defined muscle lying beneath the thin fabric of her gown. Eren sighs into her embrace with relief, arm cupped around the small of her back; yet guilt rides him. Is this the calm before the storm? Shit, he’s got no clue. Silence settles.

But he smiles. And he can just  _ feel _ her do it, too.

“Hey.” Soft, muffled. 

“Hey.” Quiet, tentative. 

A warm tingle shoots down his back as her hand runs across his spine, an absentminded gesture. “Where have you been?” 

“Out,” he confesses with a sigh. He really should get better at the whole,  _ tell-Mikasa-where-he’s-going _ thing. They've gone through too much together for him to express even an _ ounce _ of vagueness. It is not that Mikasa is being controlling or possessive, but he’s pretty sure she would have felt better had she held an inkling of his whereabouts.

“To town?” she guesses.

“Yeah.” Pulls back, releasing his grip on her to dig into his coat. The immediate absence of her body heat results in a shiver. “I got ya somethin.”

Soft pink petals form themselves into a tiny ‘o’ of surprise. “You did? Eren, I -”

Her words do not sway him. He knows that she is going to attempt either one or two things. 

One: chastise him about spending his savings, especially on her when he could invest in himself. 

Or two: the ever so familiar, _ “Eren, I can't take this.” _

Eren shushes her, using his free hand to grab hers and slide the package subtly into her grasp, all the while taking a step closer. “Don't open it until you get to your room, ‘kay?”

“What is this?” Mikasa queries, befuddled.

“It's a surprise.” He's terrible with them.

“Oh.” A sudden thought becomes a silent request, followed by a hesitant tug on his sleeve. “Come with me?”

“To your room?” Eren fumbles, dumbfounded. “It’s not gonna be much of a surprise anymore.”

“Yes.” She pulls him by his palm, and he falls into step with her with no resistance. The short trek to her room is like a game of hide and seek, with the goal essentially being  _ not getting caught  _ by their superiors. Soldiers that are found inside dormitories of the opposite gender after curfew is often frowned upon, and forbidden, depending on who you ask. Mikasa already made a risky decision by visiting him previously, but  _ he _ being in _ her  _ quarters?  _ Past  _ twilight? He’ll never hear the _ end _ of it.

_ “Sasha’s _ not in there, is she?” His tone takes a monotonous turn, almost rivaling hers. Not that he has anything personal against Sasha, but the last time he walked in on her, well. Let’s just say he’d seen more skin than he would have liked, and he will  _ never  _ look at Sasha the same way again. Ever. “No.” Mikasa lets him in, closing the door shut behind him. “She’s in the lab.” Pauses. “With Armin.”

“Armin?” Eren echoes, casting a quick look around his surroundings before he takes a seat on what he knows to be her bunk. Neatly tucked and cool to the touch, running smooth under the pads of his fingers as he runs a hand across her sheets. “Why?”

“Keeping him company, as far as I know.” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think it’s any of our business.” With the package nestled evenly between both hands, she meets his gaze. There’s hesitation - why is she hesitating more than him? She has no reason to be nervous. Out of the two of them, it’s  _ he  _ who should be nervous - “It’s quite small,” she notes of the size, giving it a little shake as she pads over to sit next to him. Light in weight. “What is it?”

“You ask too many questions.”

“You continuously refuse to answer them.”

“Mikasa, sometimes the answer is right in front of you.” His hands cover hers for the third time that night, this time with haste and growing impatience as he coaxes her to untie the vibrant red thread that binds it - “Open your eyes, for once.”

Oh, her eyes are  _ open _ , alright. They never miss a  _ thing.  _ If he wasn’t so focused on getting her to open her secret treat, he would have picked up on Mikasa’s _ incessant  _ staring. But by the time he looks up again, her gaze is downcast once more, intent as she pulls her mystery box apart with dainty tugs.  _ Unlike _ Eren, Mikasa is patient, and she likes to keep the unwrapping process as organized as possible. That way, there is less to clean up afterwards and she doesn’t have to put forth unnecessary effort.

“This is…”

Mikasa’s mouth falls open. Eren holds his breath.

“Connie and I were messin’ around in the markets,” he explains as his knee begins to bounce out of nerves, hands sandwiched between his legs. “We stopped by this place and, I, er,” heat rises in his cheeks, “couldn't leave without getting ya somethin’.”

She eats her chocolate treat, humbled. A rosy tint blossoms in her cheeks. “It's...really good,” she murmurs.

“Good,” he mutters back.

As she finishes, wiping remnants from her lips, she begins to lean in, arms forming an awkward rise for another embrace. What remains of the package slides off her lap as Eren pulls her close, his cheek resting against the crown of her head. He doesn't know where all this affectionate behavior is coming from, but the more he thinks about it the more nervous he becomes. His heart is already racing, pounding in his ears, almost paining him. His palms begin to sweat. He flexes his fingers against the small of her back. Gaze locks on the opposite wall as he focuses on his breathing.

“You alright?”

He stills. Immediately.  _ Shit _ . “Er, yeah.”

“Then why is your heart beating so fast?” She lifts her head to place a steady hand over his pectoral. “It's like a moth’s wing in there...”

“It’s just adrenaline.” Eren takes the defensive approach, which is the safest one in his opinion, brushing her off with a lazy flick of the wrist. “I thought you were gonna kill me two seconds ago.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“You waited up for me, sitting by the window with a hot cup of tea, or whatever the hell you were drinking,” Eren lists as he ticks off his fingers. “You already looked like you were going to kill Connie - or rat ‘em out, or something -”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“To me,  _ specifically _ , or -?”

“Yes.”

Eren snorts.

“Connie as well.” She folds slender digits across her lap as she addresses the assumption. “He matters to me too, you know.”

“Huh.”

Mikasa chews on her bottom lip. Hesitates before addressing the elephant in the room.

“You left this morning.”

Eren winces.  _ Here we go _ . “Yes.”

“Why?”

_ Because we were too close. _ “Because I,” slight pause, “made plans with Connie.”

“That's unusual.”

“What, that I have friends  _ outside  _ of you?” Eren quips, Armin’s name falling silent on his tongue. If he's going to keep up this light fib, he might as well put some truth behind it. “Hate to break it to you, Mikasa, but you're not the only person I care about.” Even if that means hurting her feelings a little. “Don't be selfish.”

“I’m not,” she protests, crestfallen. “I just...do not see you and him as a likely -”

“Pair?” 

“Only because -”

“He's  _ Connie?” _

“Yes.”

He makes this sound of disdain, curling his lips downward, and it comes off as cold. “He's a goof, but he's loyal. Smarter than you think.” Thick eyebrows furrow in budding agitation. 

“I know. Don't twist my words.” Mikasa gives a slight shake of her head. 

“Fine.”

“Eren.”

“Drop it.”

Her mouth falls agape. “I don’t have anything to prove to you.” Narrows her gaze as she folds her arms across her chest, and it burns in the back of his head when he looks away from her. “You’re letting your emotions cloud your mind.”

Yeah. Thanks for the reminder. “I should let you sleep then.” Eren rises, fists balled up a loose grip as he regards her quietly. “Next time, don’t wait up, alright? I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”

Her answer? 

Softer. 

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

But he can’t control that, whether he lives or dies. He’s really just hanging by a thread here. He forces a smile that’s clearly strained, “Meet me in the training room tomorrow?” and offers an ultimatum instead. He’d rather leave her open-ended than on a bad note.

She nods once, “Okay,” and they part.

* * *

 

Eren approaches her with caution, light on his feet. As the predator, the monster within roars in his chest with glee upon sight of his prey. It’s instinctive to become tense as he draws near, knowing the full extent of her skillset and what exactly she won't hesitate to unleash should he make the wrong move. Her senses, mirroring his, are unparalleled, rivaling the strength of a thousand men. He’s had his chance long before he even caught her scent -- could’ve gone for someone frail, someone breakable. End it in seconds. But the hunt is pleasure. Makes it fun.

He releases a chuckle. It falls on silent ears, full of mirth.

_ I got you now. Nowhere to run _ .

He draws near, long digits splayed apart as he sinks into his stance. He has been holding his breath for so long now that his chest is ready to burst. His head spins with the craze of piquing bloodlust, staining his vision red. He tenses, knees bending, back arching, ready to spring -

\- Only for the remnants of his oxygen to be knocked  _ the hell o _ ut of him as steel grip takes ahold of his jugular.

Laughter emits the air, but it does not come from him. Instead, it is his comrade, whose traditionally composed exterior cracks at his failure of this exercise. He would be angrier had not her hysterics resembled the softest of windchimes, had not her gaze remained steady on his, captivating him, drawing him deeper into their depths. This has been happening on multiple occasions as of late, at every chance he’s had a moment alone with her, and yet he hasn't somehow -  _ miraculously _ \- had the chance to reflect. It's not that he doesn't want to deal with whatever it is he’s feeling. Hell, he'd do anything to avoid the unknown if it means him putting his focus on something else for a while. But it’s gonna catch up with him, you know. Sooner than he thinks.

“Exceptional,” she regards him truthfully, sweat dewing just above her upper lip as it moves. “But not good enough. If I were you, I'd go with a different tactic. Something that's not so obvious.”

Definitely not distracting at all. It shouldn't be distracting him - period - but here we are. “Are you kidding me?” he wheezes, exasperated. A short pause and she releases him. His feet hit the floor, toes first, then heel. “Captain Levi said I was improving.”

“Captain Levi would have crushed you.”

“Are you saying you were going easy on me?” Eren pulls his hair up, band slipping off his wrist and into his tresses to tame them. 

“I never go easy on you, Eren,” she explains matter-of-factly. But then she inches closer, concerned. “Did I hurt you?”

She could have. So easily. Could have cut off his entire air supply, crush his vocal chords with a clench of her fist. Break his neck. Rupture his spine.

“No.” He takes a grip of her wrists as her hands rise, catching her before she can touch him. “And you're not supposed to.”

All in a matter of two seconds. Maybe even less than that, depending on her mercy. Those same hands shed the same blood as his, share the same sins. It’s been a decade (  _ shit _ ), but memories don’t fade. They remain etched in his brain, like a permanent scar. A constant reminder that his timing couldn’t be more  _ impeccable _ .

“Come on.” He grins at her, falling back so he can sink into his former position. “Let's go again.”

* * *

 

Sasha watches Armin closely, an arm propped up on the dining table while her cheek nestles itself into her palm. She's unusually quiet, something that close comrades Jean and Connie find a bit alarming, but they make no comment about it. They also choose to make no comment on Sasha’s lack of attention to them, yet is absolutely _ enamored _ whenever Armin  _ breathes _ . For a certain one of the two, it’s easy blackmail.

Jean's return to headquarters came with a special surprise - and that surprise was petite and blonde, and had everyone staring for the first ten minutes. 

For the first time in years, the entirety of Levi’s Squad dine together at a reserved table of their own, comfortably, like not a day has passed. Eren and Jean get into it with each other, Connie’s making jokes, Mikasa is two steps ahead in devising a method to break them up, and Historia stares openly into space.

Armin’s gaze remains downcast until he feels the weight of Sasha’s warmth, something he's grown accustomed to as of late, and finally makes eye contact with her from across the table. “What?”

“You haven't touched your soup,” she says. “It's gonna get cold, y’know?”

“I'm sorry,” Armin sighs, “I guess I'm just -”

“Out of it?”

“You can say that.”

A brown eyebrow arches, tone lightens as she teases, “Well, you shoulda listened to me last night.” Pauses. “And the night before  _ that  _ -”

“Alright, alright-” Armin raises his hands in defeat, eyes rolling.

“Hold up,” Jean suddenly interjects the conversation with questionable intentions. “What happened  _ last night?” _

“And the night before  _ that?”  _ Connie adds artfully.

“Eh?!”

“Nothing at all -”

“We just -”

A simultaneous blush rises in both pairs of cheeks, stammers in their defense, but it's futile.

“They've been working with Annie in the laboratory.”

Thank.  _ the walls _ . for Mikasa Ackerman.

“Yeah, Jean,” Eren pipes up, saving the two from any further explanation. “While Hange-san was on leave and  _ you _ were _ foolin’  _ around, Sasha had to step in.”

“Hey! We were  **not** fooling around. Unlike some, I actually had to take care of confidential business. Which, quite frankly, is none of  _ yours _ the last time I checked.”

“Jean,” Historia pipes up for the first time in twenty minutes, expression unchanging as her hand flits to the other’s hair, picking at something that has escaped the eye. She’s clearly deciding now to be appropriate to pay attention, for beforehand her mind had been elsewhere. “Eren would have been Hange-sans’ first choice in the matter. And besides, now is not exactly the time to be discussing. You’re causing heads to turn.”

“Can’t help that it’s one of my -  _ many  _ \- qualities.”

“Your  _ qualities _ are going to get you in trouble,” she corrects. “And I’m not going to be there when they do.”

“Please.” Offhanded, to Connie, “She can’t stop worrying about me.”

“I only worry you’ll soil the reputation I’ve spent four years trying to build.”

“Careful, sweetheart. You’re causing heads to turn.”

_ “Shut -” _ Historia stops herself, diverting her attention to the tactician across the table. She'll have her time with Jean later. “How's it going with Annie? Is there any progression?”

“Well frankly, she's under the impression that we're out to kill her,” Armin explains with a gesture of the hand, voice lowering as he leans towards the other. Their comrades adjust their seated positions to eavesdrop. “She's not an open individual. That obviously hasn't changed. But I  _ believe _ I can get her to talk…”

“How are you going to do that?”

His expression becomes grim. “That's where it gets a little tricky. Annie is only cooperating thus far because she -” he pauses in uncertainty -”I wouldn't say it's because she  _ trusts _ me. I don't think it's trust at all. It's something else.”

“Do you think it's because she... _ favors _ you?”

“Eh?”

“Armin.  _ Think  _ about it. She spared your life when she could have _ killed _ you. And when she had the chance to do it again -”

“She didn't,” Eren finishes under his breath.

“Favoritism has nothing to do with it,” Mikasa disagrees gently. “While she may not have harmed Armin, she was more of a threat to Eren despite their history.”

Mikasa is given sympathetic looks from Sasha and Historia, but she does not look at them.

Eren blinks. History? What history? Do he and Mikasa remember things differently? _ “Me?”  _

“Yes. You were the only one she taught outside of classes. Don't you remember?”

_ “Er, _ yeah, but -”

“And you used her old moves against the Armored.”

“I didn't win.”

“You almost did. And still…”

“What are you saying?” Eren looks around for help, but everyone was giving him peculiar looks that made him more uncomfortable the longer they stared. “Ah! Stop looking at me like that. Armin?” 

“My thoughts remain the same. Use her as an asset - an _ advantage _ , if you will. If she refuses, which is also likely,” Armin meets Eren’s gaze, “we might have to resort to violence. I don't want to, but -”

“There is no _ ‘might’ _ with Annie. We either take her down or we’re  _ fucked,” _ Jean says. “Point blank. No excuses.”

“But we’re already keeping her underground,” Sasha muses. “Doesn’t that make her weaker? ‘S the reason why the Survey Corps kept Eren in the dungeons, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sidin’ with Armin on this one, guys.” Connie shakes his head. “We can do what we can without bringing her any harm unless necessary. It’s already tough enough seein’ her this way.”

“Are you seriously showing her sympathy?”

“I dunno.” Connie shrugs. “Maybe I am.” Or maybe he doesn't want to see Annie go down the same path as Bertholdt. Maybe he’s tired of the fighting and killing. Maybe he’s tired of seeing old comrades fall.

“Then you’re good as dead.”

_ “Jean.” _

“No, Mikasa. I’m not gonna sugarcoat the truth. _ You will _ end up dead if you trust her,” Jean enunciates, voice trailing off coldly. “You know what happened to Marco -”

_ “Enough.” _ Mikasa’s gaze hardens. “You no longer carry that burden. We have orders. We should abide by them. No harm will come to Annie.”

“Unless we have to,” Armin mutters.

It is clear that the group remains divided on the questionable fate of Annie Leonhardt. It is evident that she has their protection, but that doesn't mean they have to agree with it. 

“Unless we have to,” Eren echoes, crestfallen.

He did consider her a friend once, after all.

As dinner comes to a close, the original seven decide to disperse. Jean heads straight for the stables, with Historia hoisting up her skirt to keep up with his elongated pacing. Sasha follows Armin presumably to the laboratory, Connie not being far behind them. 

Eren isn't surprised to find himself accompanied by Mikasa.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I dunno.”

“Where are you heading?”

“Downstairs.”

She’s quiet for a second. “To see  _ her?” _

His expression remains grim. “Yeah.”

Almost a whisper. “Alone?”

“Looks like it.”

“Okay.”

She...accepts it? Just like that. He’s expecting more of a fight from her, but when he no longer hears her footsteps echoing behind him, he takes this time to pause. Turn on his heel and meet her gaze with scrunched eyebrows, skeptical hues. They’ve  _ gotta  _ be three yards apart at this point. At this distance, he’s far enough to where he could keep going. Just a step away from taking that right that leads him down to another woman. And she was letting him go. Trusting him.

“What?”

“I’m going to the stables,” she decides. “I’ll be nearby, just in case. Will you tell me if you gather any intel?”

Silence.

“Eren?”

“Huh?  _ Oh.” _

Eren stammers, coughs when he recognizes his stumble. He had been staring for a good minute there.

“Sure.”

He was just...thrown off guard, that’s all.

“Why’re you going to the stables?” And didn’t Horseface  _ just _ go in that direction?

“To see Jean.” And he feels his stomach  _ churn _ . “He seemed really upset.”

“Let ‘em blow off some steam. He’ll get over it.”

A strange look flickers over her face. “Maybe.”

He squints. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Mikasa.”

“See ya.”

“What? No, wait! Mikasa!”

She pauses in her retreat, and he reaches her in two strides. Yeah. _Two_.

“Don’t give him what he wants,” he exhales, breathing labored.

“What’s that?”

“Attention.”

“You don’t want _me_ …” she draws out slowly, “to give _him_ attention?”

“...No?” It comes out like a question. But his stomach is starting to do that thing where it feels like something light and fluttery is moving around to the point to where he’s uncomfortable, his cheeks grow scarlet with rising embarrassment, and he can’t bring himself to take his eyes off hers.

And she smiles.

She fucking _ smiles _ . 

Then she says, “I don’t feel comfortable with you going down there alone.”

And he scoffs. “Oh,  _ fuck _ you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. ♡ I'm gonna start going through the comment section and reply to you guys!


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